Saints of South Boston
by ShazzyZhang
Summary: Connor and Murphy have stayed in Boston and have continued their Holy War with the help of new friends and old. Set through and after the first movie without "All Saints Day" in the timeline. T for cussin', romance, death, mayhem and hooligans.
1. Backstory

_AN: So, this is the original story that I had created for Blaise. The FULL story. Blaise had come about on a very old RP forum over 10 years ago. She was created because I needed an OC who wasn't a cop, wasn't a mobster and could get involved with the Saints. There is romance but it wasn't my fault in the first place, I didn't start off as Connor in the game, and the person playing him latched on to Blaise to stop a Mary-Sue from ruining the rest of it. And then it spiralled from there. Eventually, I ended up playing Blaise, Connor, Duffy and Rocco. Prepare for character death. This will be a long one and might take a while because I am piecing together what I remember from the forums because they are long gone now. :sigh: I miss these days of frivolous RP bliss. Ha ha!_

_So, enjoy. The story is crazy and I wish that I could thank all the people who helped play the characters but alas, we have all fallen out of touch._

_Slainté!_

_-Shazzy_

**Saints of South Boston**

**-Backstory-**

They had seen her for the first time in church. It was years before the fateful Saint Patrick's Day with the Russians. They were still good boys... _Relatively_ good boys then. Devout and pious, and still working the meat packing plant, they made a point to go to Mass every Sunday.

She looked younger than they were, but not by much. Connor had noticed her first. She was mesmerizing. He had never seen a girl that stood out the way she did.

He nudged his brother as they stood listening to the prayer and offering the proper responses. Murphy turned his darker blue eyes in the direction that Connor had indicated.

Her hair was more red then, and longer, dyed a rich red that was clearly not a naturally occurring shade. It was tied back with a ribbon and curled slightly in loose ringlets. She was wearing a green dress that looked like something out of a medieval film. It was made of a wool-like material and had a corset of a shimmery, lighter green material over top. She was a bit shorter than the MacManus brothers and she never looked their way. From her profile, they could see that her eyes were a striking aqua blue, her skin was pale and she wore no makeup. She was standing next to a greying man, dressed in a police uniform.

"Her Da'?" Connor hissed.

Murphy shrugged. "Or her boyfriend." He whispered back.

They weren't afraid to talk during Mass. They sat near the back for just that purpose. Connor had to resist the urge to punch his brother. The girl was intriguing and he wanted to find out who she was.

Nature has a law that dictates that once you notice someone, you will _always_ notice that person, whether you want to or not. After the service, as they stepped outside to smoke, Connor couldn't help but she her again, chatting amiably with someone from the congregation. The man she had been with was nowhere to be seen.

"Jus' go talk to her then." Murphy sneered, his usual sarcasm evident in his voice.

"Na'ah." Connor replied watching her as she shook hands with the woman she was talking to. "She wouldnae gi'e us the time of day."

"Your loss." Murphy chided.

But he saw her again after anyway.

They were haunting their favourite pub, McGinty's. It had been their drinking hole since they were old enough to drink. Hell, if they were gonna be honest, they'd been slipping into the pub since before they were old enough to drink. Doc never called them out on it. He was like family and they'd spent more than one night acting as barkeeps, bouncers and janitors, depending on what Doc needed.

Connor and Murphy were sitting in a booth in the back corner, listening to their friend Rocco go on about how he had been pulling jobs for the local crime syndicate, and drinking Guinness.

Connor was not paying attention to his friend. He was smoking and watching the patrons of the pub through narrowed eyes. There was a larger police presence than usual in the pub, and Rocco's boasts of working for the mob were sure to get attention if he was too loud.

And then he noticed her.

She'd been sitting there with the cops for at least an hour and he hadn't noticed. She'd put her hair up in a high ponytail and had changed into a zippered hoodie and jeans, blending in with the other patrons. She was drinking a Guinness, while everyone else seemed to be drinking rye or scotch. She was talking rapidly and listening to the group of older men, the cops, as they told stories. She had a notebook and took notes when something particularly interesting caught her attention. She didn't drink much, Connor noted, her Guinness stayed relatively full as the shots of Scotch and Rye were refilled over and over. She nodded tersely as the jovial nature of the men she'd surrounded herself with turned serious. She took her notes and talked quietly with them.

"Connor, ya listenin'?" Rocco asked loudly, his words slurring through the drink.

Connor blinked and turned his eyes back to his dark-haired Italian friend. "No." He admitted.

"Fuckin' figures." Murphy sneered.

His brother was drunk too, Connor realized.

Murphy nudged Rocco. "Connor saw himself a _girl_ earlier, but didnae have the balls ta talk to 'er." He smirked. "Probably busy thinkin' about wha' he woulda said an' regretting that he didn't."

Rocco chuckled and made a slurred comment that Connor didn't catch and Murphy laughed in response.

Connor frowned and stood from their table, grabbing his drink as he walked away.

Murphy called a sarcastic comment behind his brother.

Connor crossed the small pub and walked right up to the group of cops sitting around the table with the girl.

"Buy y' boys a round?" Connor offered.

Murphy's jaw dropped when he saw the girl and he muttered a curse about women in general in drunken German under his breath. Rocco blinked stupidly and lit a cigarette.

Connor was instantly taken in by the group of cops, a little alcohol to grease the wheels never hurt. He was all smiles and manners as he was welcomed and introduced. He excused himself to get the drinks as the girl followed.

"An' who in th' hell are you?" She demanded as Connor ordered the drinks.

Connor flashed her a smile. He was pleased as punch to hear the lilting Irish accent to her low voice. She didn't strike him as overly girly. Feminine yes, girly, no. He instantly liked her.

"Connor MacManus, at yer service." He replied, offering his hand.

She looked him over skeptically. He paid special mind to her eyes on the tattoos on his arm and hand, the cross and the deep blue Latin word on his index finger, while keeping his crooked grin firmly affixed to his face.

Cautiously, she took his hand. "Blaise O'Malley." She offered with a huff. She narrowed her eyes. "Where 'ave I seen you before?"

Connor shrugged, not willing to admit that he'd noticed her at mass. It seemed stalkerish and he wasn't ready to risk scaring her. "In here, likely." He said as the drinks were placed on the counter. "Thanks, Doc." He added to the elderly gentleman behind the counter.

"I was w-w-wondering when you two would t-t-talk." Doc said with a smile. The man had Tourette's and a stutter. It made conversations with him interesting.

Connor and Blaise exchanged looks.

"What's that s'pose ta mean?" Blaise asked with her own crooked grin. Her aqua eyes betrayed a lust for mischief and Connor suddenly felt out of his depth.

"I've seen you both in here for a-a-ages." Doc said. "Fuck!" He twitched. "Ass!" The Tourette's had given him the most amusing tic. "Just play nice, Connor. Her Da' is a cop."

Blaise leaned over and kissed Doc's cheek. "You tell all my secrets." She scolded, earning a laugh from the older man. She picked up a tray from the bar counter and began placing the rocks glasses on the worn plastic. "Let me help." She offered.

"What are you doing o'er there?" Connor asked, nodding towards the group of police.

"Research." Blaise replied, picking up the tray with practised ease.

"For what?" Connor asked.

"I'm a writer." Blaise explained nonchalantly. "They tell me stories and give me information for my books."

"Y' published?" Connor asked further, carrying a glass in each hand.

"Aye." Blaise replied. "But we'll talk after. This'll be the last round fer th' boys."

Connor nodded dumbly as they took the drinks back to the police officers, earning a cheer and a clap on the shoulder for Connor.

In the corner, Murphy smoked a cigarette, and fumed. He was feeling the first pangs of jealousy. He and Connor were inseparable. Always had been. He'd never seen anyone come between them, especially not a _girl_.

"Yo, Murph, you okay?" Rocco asked suddenly, as if he was attuned to his friend's thoughts.

Murphy shrugged and continued to glare at his brother.

Rocco followed his gaze to where Connor was sitting with his new friends.

"Who's the girl?" Rocco asked, swaying in his seat.

"Tha's the one he saw earlier." Murphy growled. "Why is she _here_ of all places? She's _Catholic_. She shouldn't be here..."

Rocco looked at Murphy through his shaggy chestnut hair. He ran his hand over his face to get his wavy locks out of his eyes. "Aren't you Catholic too?" He asked.

"S'not the same." Murphy drawled. "She's a _girl_. Girls don't drink in here... like... ever." He frowned. "An' she's a cop." He accused bitterly.

Rocco looked at the girl in question. She was laughing at something one of her friends had said. He noted that Connor looked at ease within the group, no hostility, and no animosity.

"She doesn't look like a cop..." Rocco mumbled. "She's too..."

"Girly." Murphy finished the sentence as he lit another cigarette.

"I was going to say young." Rocco offered.

Murphy waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter." He grumbled. "Why is he sitting with her?" He asked rhetorically. "What makes her so damn special?"

"She's new." Rocco said with amazing clarity. "And she seems interesting."

Murphy growled again.

The drinks were finished quickly and the cops began to depart. Most had work the next day, and some had come straight to the bar from their latest shift. Blaise said goodbye to each man individually, shaking hands and smiling. She paid special attention to a single grey-haired cop. She kissed him casually on the cheek and he spoke briefly with Connor, shaking his hand, before nodding and placing a hand on Blaise's shoulder. He departed with a wave to Doc.

Finally, it was her and Connor sitting at the table. She tucked her things into her canvas bag and mumbled something to Connor. He nodded and he stepped over to the bar, carrying the stack of empty rocks glasses. She followed, as Connor went back to the table, and she chatted with Doc for a long moment, nodding and smiling. She handed over money to cover the round Connor had offered to buy, and procured four Guinness on top of it. A remark from one of the regulars at the bar made her laugh and she bought the three men still slouched over the dark wood a drink each.

Connor watched her from his chair, elbow resting on the table and hand against his lip. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She was intriguing. She was intelligent and quick-witted. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and she spoke her mind. She was unlike most of the girls Connor had met. She genuinely seemed like someone who he could get along with.

Connor stood as she returned from the bar, carrying the tray with the glasses of the thick, dark beer. She'd had one all night, nursing the same drink the entire time she'd chatted with the cops. He nodded towards the table where Murphy and Rocco sat chatting quietly and smoking. The corner was awash with the blue haze from their cigarettes.

Murphy looked up first. "What's all this then?" He slurred.

Connor shifted uneasily. He could tell Murphy was pissed off and drunk.

Blaise didn't even blink. She set a glass in front of Murphy and a glass in front of Rocco.

"M' name is Blaise." She said with a grin as she handed Connor his own glass. "I thank y' boys for lettin' me borrow Connor 'ere and I bring y' drinks as a peace offerin'."

Murphy stared up at her through narrowed eyes, he didn't quite trust her, or like her for that matter. But she was apologizing, kind of.

"You a cop?" Rocco asked thickly.

Blaise laughed merrily. "Naw. M' Da' is though." She said. "The grey haired one who sat next t' me all night, that's m' Da'." She narrowed her eyes. "Why? You gonna do somethin' illegal?"

"Maybe." Rocco shot back, flashing his big grin.

Blaise laughed. "Well, as long as I don' see it, we should be fine." She said agreeably. "So, can I join you?" She asked finally.

Rocco scooted over, closer to Murphy so Blaise had a spot to sit. Blaise didn't complain, she slid easily into the booth next to Rocco, leaving Connor to sit across from her.

Connor shot a dirty glance at Rocco but sat anyway, taking a long draught of his beer.

"So what are you then?" Murphy asked.

"I'm a time-travelling cyborg sent from the future to warn you boys that your mission has been compromised and you should come out with me tomorrow night instead." Blaise replied, in a perfect deadpan.

Murphy blinked in surprise and sat up straight. "The fuck?" He asked, shooting Connor a glance.

Connor shrugged, Rocco was laughing quietly under his breath.

"I'm a writer." Blaise informed Murphy with a shrug and a drink of her beer. "However, I would actually love it if you'd join me tomorrow night."

"Working..." Rocco said glumly.

Murphy stared at Connor, knowing perfectly well that his brother was chomping at the bit to accept. He sighed. "Fine." He agreed with a nod.

"Slainté." Blaise replied, holding her glass up in a silent toast.

Murphy wrinkled his nose in reply.

Blaise had left after buying another round for the boys in the corner.

Rocco left next, leaving the twins to stare at each other across the small table as Doc ushered the other patrons out.

"Fuck off." Murphy sneered as soon as they were alone.

"You're just jealous." Connor shot back, lighting his final smoke for the night. "She ain't a bad person, Murph."

Murphy scowled. "I ain't jealous." He mumbled.

"Right." Connor agreed. "You haven't got a thing t' be jealous over anyway. S'not like we're _together_."

"Y' met her Da'." Murphy shot back. "S'as good as bein' a couple."

Connor laughed and rested his head against his hand, smoking lazily. "Your mind must be a jumbled mess. Y' sure y' haven't knocked summin' loose?"

Murphy glared.

"We're joining her tomorrow." Connor said matter-of-factly.

"Fine, whatever." Murphy agreed reluctantly.


	2. First Date

_AN: So... yeah... As much as I can remember as quickly as I can remember. I'm strangely happy to be writing this all out again. Go figure._

_And I dunno when I'll be coming back. _

_Love you all._

_Slainté_

_-Shazzy_

**-First Date-**

The next night's entertainment happened to be a concert. Blaise had dragged the boys out to a show in the middle of Boston. The venue was a bar they'd never heard of that had enough space with the tables moved out of the way for a decent sized crowd. The bands were two local, Boston-based, internationally famous Irish punk bands who needed no introduction.

Blaise swore it was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of deal.

The boys sat moodily in the corner, out of their element, awkward and unhappy. Blaise bought the drinks, the food, the tickets. She chatted up the other attendees happily as they waited for the bands to start.

"Fuckin' _concerts_?" Murphy hissed through a lungful of cigarette smoke.

Connor shrugged. "Better'n a movie." He replied nonchalantly. He wasn't unhappy, just out of place.

Before Murphy could reply, the lights dimmed and the first band started playing. Blaise appeared from the crowd, smiling ear to ear and made her way back to the table.

"Come _on!_" She insisted, pulling Connor to his feet. Cigarette firmly between his lips, Connor allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Blaise offered her hand to Murphy who waved her away, annoyed.

"Spoil sport." She chided.

Murphy gave her the finger.

Blaise laughed, leaned over and kissed the grumpy MacManus on the cheek. "You'll dance wit' me yet." She warned before dragging Connor away into the crowd.

Murphy scowled, drinking his beer as he watched his brother disappear into the press of bodies. He wasn't terribly opposed to the music, he had to admit he almost _liked_ it. It was the fact that he hadn't wanted to come out here in the first place that was making him bitter. And the fact that his brother had ditched him for a damn _girl_.

He smoked and drank alone while he waited for the others to return.

Connor came back first, staggering and flushed with exertion as the first band finished their set. Murphy arched an eyebrow but handed his brother a cigarette anyway.

"Where's your _girlfriend_?" Murphy sneered.

Connor shrugged. "Dancin' with someone else." He lit his cigarette and stole his brother's beer. "Why don't ya cheer up, Murph? It's not gonna kill you ta' enjoy yourself fer once."

"Fuck. Off." Murphy replied. He looked his brother over. "Didja get into a fight?"

"Huh?" Connor asked, looking himself over. "Naw, there's the mosh pit an' shit."

"Right." Murphy said, suddenly itching to get into the pit. A fight would be good. The thump of the drums and the wail of the fiddles had set his blood boiling. He chewed his thumb impatiently.

A cheer rose from the crowd and Blaise was there, flopping into the booth next to Murphy. "Your turn." He warned him.

Murphy couldn't help but smile. "No." He said, refusing to play along willingly.

"Suit yerself." Blaise warned. "We can do this the hard way."

Connor was all smiles as Blaise ordered another round.

"You are such an ass." Connor growled in perfect Italian.

Murphy gave his brother a smug sort of look.

"Am I having a stroke?" Blaise asked. "Or d'you speak more'n one language?"

"No, you're havin' a stroke." Murphy said with a smirk.

Blaise took the liberty to punch him in the arm.

Murphy mouthed the word 'ow' as he shot a look at Connor; he was scandalized.

Connor laughed outright as the new glasses were set in front of the group.

"Drink up m' boys!" Blaise said cheerily, lifting her glass. "Y'only live once."

Glasses clinked and they drank.

"Oh shite." Blaise breathed as she set her now half-empty glass on the table. The lights dimmed again and the crowd went nuts. "Can I borrow yer brother?" She asked Connor.

Connor was busily lighting a cigarette. "Aye take 'im away, I don' want him."

Murphy's insult was lost in the roar of the crowd and the droning of the bagpipes as the second band started. Blaise had grabbed him by the hand and was dragging him away from the table, immune to his protests and his half-assed attempt to fight back.

Connor reclined in the booth, smoking happily. He was half determined to go find them in a bit.

Murphy was itching to fight, and the second band was louder and angrier than the first. The crowd seethed with raw energy. He clenched his fists and scanned the crowd. His eyes fell on Blaise, however, dancing with a sway of her hips and a fist pump at all the correct moments. He could suddenly see what it was, exactly, that Connor had seen in her. She was so full of _life_. She was honestly enjoying herself. To hell what everyone else thought, she was here, dancing, enjoying the music.

He was jealous that Connor had found someone like this for himself.

And he wanted to fight everyone because of it.

His urge to fight suddenly dissipated as the music changed into a swinging jig. Before he knew what was happening, Blaise had grabbed him by the hand and was dragging him into a dance. He had no idea how to do the dance, but he followed along, stomping around in the circle with rest of them.

Murphy had to drag _her_ out of the crowd.

"Your brother can't dance worth shite." Blaise informed Connor with a smile as they returned to their table.

Connor shrugged. "Did he fight anyone?" He asked with a smirk.

"She's the scrapper!" Murphy exclaimed as Blaise flopped back into the booth. "She was gonna kick this little punk's arse for some stupid reason or another." He informed his brother with a huff. "Ne'er seen a _girl_ nearly kick th' shit outta a bloke like that! And she's got a good swing t' her too."

Blaise shook her head but chose not to comment. "I'm goin' back in there." She informed Murphy. "There's still dances." She explained with a shrug as she gulped the last of her beer.

"She's gonna get our asses kicked." Murphy told Connor as Blaise finished her drink and was on her feet again.

Connor shrugged as Blaise pulled him to his feet. Blaise grabbed Murphy's hand and dragged both her boys back into the crowd as another reel started.

"There's the fucker." Murphy hissed, eyeing the dreadlocked, dirty-looking punk who'd been messing with Blaise. He pointed the kid out to Connor as they passed one another in the dance Blaise was forcing them into.

Connor eyed the kid disdainfully as he was forced to switch partners.

"Don't think about it." Blaise warned Connor as she spun. "He's mine."

"We'll see, love." Connor replied with a smirk.

They stumbled out of the venue, exhausted, thrumming with the energy of the crowd and buzzed with not enough drink to be drunk, but just enough to feel pleasantly numbed. Blaise was neatly skipping along, singing and dancing down the street as the brothers lit cigarettes as they walked behind her.

"Y' still dislike her?" Connor asked quietly as Blaise's voice cracked as she yelled and sang, imitating the raspy vocals they'd spent the night listening to.

"Can't say I do." Murphy said with a reluctant sigh. He stared at the dark sky as smoke plumed around his head.

"That's good." Connor mused. "As long as you approve of her."

Murphy laughed. "She's gonna get us killed."

"Or save us." Connor countered.

"AH FUCK OFF!" Blaise yelled suddenly.

Both Connor and Murphy were snapped immediately out of their conversation and the cigarettes were cast aside in unison with a flick and a trail of orange sparks.

The little punk had brought friends.

"It was a scrap in th' pit!" Blaise growled as the men flanked her. "Y' fuckin' pussy."

"That's the bitch." Dreadlocks said, his eye was blackened and his lip was split from the single punch Blaise had thrown before Murphy had dragged her out of the pit..

His other friends were big and Blaise suddenly felt worried for her safety. She squared her shoulders and balled her fists. She was very upset that she'd only worn her high top sneakers.

Connor and Murphy appeared from the shadows like vengeful angels.

"Problem, boys?" Murphy asked coolly.

"Scram." Dreadlocks said. "Ain't yer problem, y' Irish bastards."

"See, I think it _is_ our problem." Connor replied. "Seein' as she's _my_ date."

"An' she's Irish too." Murphy chimed in. "What'd they call us, Conn? Bastards?"

"Oh aye." Connor said. "An' we should definitely show 'em how much o' bastards we actually are."

There was a half second where no one was quite sure what was about to happen, and then the brothers struck.

Both of the MacManuses had rushed their targets, the bigger men flanking Blaise. They shoulder checked the bigger men, fists flying as they drove them to the ground and finishing with devastating kicks from their steel toed boots. Murphy was rewarded with a satisfying crack as ribs broke.

Blaise threw her own punch, catching Dreadlocks square in the jaw. She delivered a kick to his stomach, doubling him over. She grabbed the greasy dreadlocks and smashed his face with her knee.

Connor and Murphy had winded the others and stood watching Blaise's assault with impressed smirks on their faces. Murphy nudged his brother and they both winced as she drove her knee into Dreadlocks' face a second time. She didn't seem to notice the splotch of blood on her jeans.

The brothers exchanged glances as Dreadlocks sank to the ground. They both rushed forward, each grabbing one of Blaise's arms and pulling her back.

"I was done." Blaise whined as the boys dragged her away, across the street and away as fast as they could.

"Yeah, but y' don't wanna get pinched do ye?" Murphy argued.

"Da's a cop." Blaise reminded them. "And that was self-defence."

Connor laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders as Murphy pulled out another cigarette.

"Where'd you learn t' fight?" Connor asked.

Blaise snorted. "Da' insisted I take lessons. A girl's gotta be able to defend 'erself."

"Where to now?" Murphy asked.

Blaise shrugged under Connor's arm. "Dunno." She admitted. "Too late to drink anymore."

"We could take her 'ome." Connor suggested.

"Our place or hers?" Murphy asked, more aggressively than he intended.

"I don't think our place is suitable." Connor replied with a smirk. "B'sides, I'm sure her Da' would be happier knowin' that we took her home instead a' lettin' her make it there herself."

"Waitaminute." Blaise slurred. "I don't _live_ with my Da'." She said. "I have an apartment o' my own, Da' lives on the edge a' town. S'no problem if you wanna come back, crash on my floor or whatever." She grinned sleepily, the adrenaline giving up and the nice buzz of the alcohol kicking in. She patted Connor's hand affectionately.

The boys exchanged a look of debate.

Blaise's apartment was gorgeous. The brothers had been living in illegal lofts for years, the actual apartment was a nice change of pace. The floors were carpeted and the walls were plain, but it was nice. Everything was in its place and the fixtures were new and stylish.

Murphy let out an appreciative whistle as he flopped down on the plush couch. "Y' must be sellin' plenty o' books there, Blaise."

Blaise shrugged in response and settled herself on the floor. "As many as I can." She replied with a yawn. "There's a bedroom down the hall, on the left. It's my office but there's a bed in there, mine's at the end o' the hallway, bathroom's there too. Help yerselves t' whatever y' want... I think there's beer in th' fridge."

Connor sat in the matching armchair to the couch and Blaise leaned against his legs and closed her eyes.

"Y' takin' her to bed?" Murphy asked suddenly, in perfect Russian.

Connor narrowed his eyes. "Hadn't thought about it." He replied in Italian.

"Havin' a stroke again..." Blaise mumbled.

Murphy snickered and continued the conversation in German. "I'm not going to stop you, is all I'm saying."

Connor shrugged. "And that's the difference between you and I." He finished in Russian.

"You just don't know how to take what you want." Murphy accused, sticking with German.

"Maybe." Connor agreed in English.

"Do I wanna know what you're talking about?" Blaise asked sleepily.

"No." The boys replied in unison.

"Prob'ly somethin' ta' do with either sex, or sleepin' arrangements." She said, opening her eyes to stare at Murphy. "I think that there's very few other things that you'd keep from me in order to not offend me."

Connor grinned but didn't say anything.

"What if we were?" Murphy asked, arching his eyebrow. "Y' gonna be offended?"

"No." Blaise replied with a yawn. "Flattered, but not offended." She patted Connor on the leg. "Besides, a _lady_ doesn't put out on th' first date."

She stood slowly. "You can fight over the bed. I'm going to sleep." She informed them. She planted a kiss on both of the boys' cheeks before slinking away down the hallway.

Connor watched her go.

"Y' can stop being so smug about it now." Murphy scolded.

"Can't." Connor replied.

"Spare me the details of how much you're in love." Murphy groaned. "An' jus' fuckin' go ta' bed with her." He added. "Don't care if you have sex – although it'd do you a world of good – but get ta' fuck with ya'."

"Fine." Connor replied, standing. "I'll go ta' bed with her." He said, in the same tone of voice he would use years later in their 'rope' argument. "An' we'll see _you_ in the morning."

Murphy threw the V's as Connor sauntered after Blaise, a smirk playing on his lips.


	3. Funeral

_AN: So many things to do, so little time. Sorry this is taking so long, this one is a lot to remember and put together. Ugh. The Mary-Sue character I was talking about makes an appearance in a little bit here. You'll hate her. I'm excited for it. :P _

_Slainté_

_-Shazzy_

-**Funeral-**

Blaise introduced them properly to her father shortly after the concert, and the MacManus brothers became part of the family.

Blaise continued to write her books, inviting the boys over to keep her company when deadlines loomed and she was stuck in the apartment for days on end. They attended Mass together, discovering that they'd been going there every week for years, and never actually talking.

One Sunday, after church, Lucius O'Malley invited the brothers over for dinner. Blaise was surprised, they hadn't had a proper Sunday meal for a long time. The brothers accepted, however, and the deal was set.

Lucius O'Malley was a masterful chef. He prepared an entire meal without breaking a sweat and he'd imparted his talents in the kitchen upon his daughter. They joked back and forth as they prepared the Sunday meal, with Connor and Murphy watching on from the kitchen table.

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do to help?" Murphy asked.

"Nonsense." Lucius replied lightly. "You boys are guests, sit, relax, tell me about yourselves. I can't have my daughter running around with hooligans, can I?"

Murphy laughed and Connor shook his head. Blaise's father was a jovial Irishman. He made jokes all the time and was always a very happy-go-lucky kind of man. He regaled the brothers with stories from back home, talking about his days as a young man in Ireland, causing mischief and courting Blaise's mother -rest her soul. Blaise listened with a smirk on her face, she knew all the stories by heart and was amused by the rapt attention her father commanded from the otherwise unruly MacManuses.

As dinner was served, Connor and Murphy were grilled for questions. Where do they work? Where do they live? What brings them to Boston? Where's their family?

They answered as best they could. It was hard. Da' was out of the picture and they'd never met him, Ma' was back in Ireland. They ended up in Boston on a whim of their mother's as children and never really left. Something – and they weren't sure what – made them stay. They worked in a meat packing plant, and had no real plans of going anywhere else. Honest work, even if it was rather gross. Living arrangements... well, that one was brushed aside. They were positive that Lucius wouldn't approve.

As Blaise cleared away the dinner plates, and Lucius offered the boys a cigarette, he leaned forward and stared Connor down.

"And what is your intention, exactly with my daughter?" He demanded, his voice a low rumble.

Murphy snickered under his breath as he lit his cigarette.

Connor's eyes grew wide and his face paled a little. "I er... that is... Uh..." He stammered.

A slow smile crept across Lucius's face. "Christ, boy, you'd think you've ne'er had a girlfriend before." He laughed merrily. "Jus' watch out for 'er is all I'm asking." He said. He pointed at Murphy. "An' that goes double for you." He added as he lit his own cigarette.

Connor let out a sigh of relief and Murphy chuckled and nodded his agreement.

"You boys are all right." Lucius said. "I haven't a problem with ya'." He smiled brightly. "I'll welcome ye' both with open arms and offer you all the protection I can should y' ever need it."

"Thank you." Connor said finally finding his voice.

"Told you he'd like you." Blaise chided as she returned from the kitchen and sat at the table next to her father. "You hooligans are too hard on yerselves."

Connor and Murphy promised to get Blaise home safely after dinner. With a hearty handshake and the new found approval of her father, they walked back towards downtown, planning to hail a cab.

"Da' likes you." Blaise said with a satisfied smile. "He doesn't just tell people he'll welcome you inta th' family like that. He's super protective of it." Her smile turned sad. "Since we lost mum, anyway."

"You don't talk about it much." Murphy noticed.

Blaise shrugged. "She was sick." She said with a sigh. "Cancer. Nothin' we could do except watch her go. I was twelve." She added, as if it made a difference.

"Sorry." Murphy said.

"Da's done all right, tho. I mean, he's made sure I can take care o' myself an' he's always supported me. An' now lookit me!" Blaise shrugged again, shaking her head. "Naw, now ain't th' time to be sad! You have Da's approval. Ev'rything is official-like now! We should celebrate. McGinty's? I'll buy."

Murphy laughed and nudged Connor. "I like yer girlfriend more n' more." He said.

Connor smiled quietly and watched Blaise bounce around like a child on Christmas. Everything seemed to be getting better.

They were inseparable from then on. The trio became a quartet and Blaise integrated herself easily into the MacManus's lives. She even let Rocco in to her life, becoming fast friends with the uncouth Italian. She and Rocco would drink and fight and generally enjoy themselves, to mixed reactions from the MacManus brothers.

Their friendship lasted for years.

Sunday dinner became a ritual, the MacManuses would join the O'Malleys every week before heading out to the pub for drinks with the boys.

Lucius approved of his daughter's friends and made sure that they knew it.

They were a family, then.

'Witnesses' would claim that they could hear the gunshots from all over the place. That the echoes fanned out from the docks in waves.

Blaise was at home when she got the call. Murphy and Connor were there, chilling out, watching a movie and talking shit while Blaise revised her latest book, when she answered the phone.

"Hello?" Blaise said quietly into the phone. "Aye..." A long pause. "Aye, that's right..."

Murphy tapped Connor's arm and nodded towards Blaise. Both boys were on their feet in an instant. They crossed the small apartment and waited for Blaise to be finished. Murphy leaned against the wall nonchalantly and Connor stood closer to her.

"What?" Blaise said suddenly, agitated. She listened quietly for a long moment. "Yes... Thank you... I will. Um... Tomorrow?" Murphy stood properly and folded his arms. Something wasn't right. Blaise slowly hung up the phone and was lucky that Connor was quick enough to catch her when her knees buckled.

"Shit. Blaise? What's wrong?" Connor asked, holding her carefully.

"It's Da'..." She mumbled, tears welling in her eyes.

Connor held her close and exchanged looks with Murphy.

They managed to convince her to sit in the living room. She curled up on the couch with Connor's arm draped around her shoulder. Murphy had taken his vigil in the armchair.

"What happened?" Murphy asked quietly.

"They said..." Blaise choked. "They said that he was out on the docks. They'd suspected mob involvement in smuggling out there and they had enough information to finally go and see about it." She bit her lip, struggling to explain. "There was a shooter..."

Connor held her as she sobbed into his shoulder. Murphy's jaw set in grim determination and the brothers exchanged looks.

The process was long and arduous and painful. She had to identify the body, read the will, arrange the funeral. At least, Connor decided, the police help for the service made things a little smoother.

The funeral was what you would expect from the death of a cop. Half the damn city turned out to pay their respects.

Connor and Murphy hung back while Blaise made the appropriate rounds. They watched carefully, just in case. They didn't need another casualty.

Blaise shook hands with the police chief and some of the officers who drank in the pub.

Connor nudged Murphy as three detectives approached Blaise. One was around her age, probably a bit older, tall and lanky with dark hair and narrow features. One was portly with longer hair and a trench coat. The third, had short, pale brown hair, stubble and wore a dark jacket, similar to the pea coats Connor and Murphy preferred.

Blaise greeted them affectionately. She got hugs from each in turn and chatted quietly with them the longest. The short-haired man placed his hand against her shoulder and she nodded as he spoke. She patted his hand affectionately and made a vague motion towards the twins.

The detectives glanced momentarily at the MacManus brothers. A small wave and a nod of the head was the only recognition the twins got from the short-haired detective. Connor and Murphy waved vaguely in return.

Blaise returned to her boys when she'd thanked all the detectives and police officers for attending. She looked a wreck.

"Who were they?" Connor asked of the three Detectives she'd been familiar with.

"Friends." She replied vaguely. "They're good men. Known 'em for so long they're almost family." She sighed. "Although, had things worked out dif'rently, I'd probably be standing with a cop instead o' you on my arm. An' I gotta admit tha' at least one o' those three is my type." She added with a smirk. The sarcasm was a defence mechanism and she used it well.

Connor gave her a hug and refused to reply.

"Are you speaking today?" Murphy asked.

"No." Blaise said with a sigh. "I don't wanna. This is a cop thing. I'll just muck it up."

Murphy nodded, he knew that she would grieve when they were alone.

The funeral seemed to go on forever. When they finally committed Lucius O'Malley's body to the ground and the gun salute went off, Blaise lost her composure and broke down. She stood with one MacManus on either side of her and sobbed into her hands.


	4. Grief

_AN: Dunno what to say about this one, except that it's good to be back._

_Slainté_

_-Shazzy_

**-Grief-**

McGinty's was somber afterwards.

The usual joviality was lost in the grief that surrounded Blaise. The cops had stayed away, going to the more police-oriented pubs to drown their grief. Blaise, Connor and Murphy sat at the long bar in silence. Even the regulars were paying their respects to Blaise and her father.

"He was a good man." Someone said.

"Thanks." Blaise replied flatly.

After an hour of condolences, Connor and Muprhy dragged Blaise to the corner booth, getting her away from the rest of the patrons. It was still relatively early and Rocco hadn't shown up. The MacManus boys were considering making sure Blaise was gone before he arrived, or getting her very, very drunk.

"What am I gonna do?" Blaise asked finally as she leaned against Connor.

"You're gonna keep fuckin' writing is what you're gonna do." Murphy replied, lighting a cigarette. "Use it ta' fuel yourself. All this emotion an' shit, write something gratuitously violent."

Connor shot his brother a look but didn't disagree.

Blaise smiled at the thought. "Yeah, he'd want me to." She agreed quietly.

"Do you want us to find out who did it?" Connor asked.

"No." Blaise replied. "I know who it was."

"Who?" Murphy asked, the itch for a fight returning.

"Doesn't matter." Blaise told him. "It was a mob thing. They're untouchable."

"Blaise, look at me." Murphy demanded.

Blaise turned her eyes on the darker brother.

"I will kill the bastard who did this to you." Murphy said in a low and dangerous voice. "You give me the word, and I will kill every last mother fucker who had anything to do with it."

Blaise nodded and reached across the table to pat Murphy's hand. "That's illegal." She said with a smirk. "But I appreciate it."

Connor glanced at his brother, who shrugged in return.

"Da' left me the house." Blaise said after a long while. She wasn't drinking much, she'd been nursing a single beer all night, as if the grief was too much and she was filled with it. "I guess I could jus' rent th' apartment?"

"Might be the smart thing t' do." Connor agreed.

"Th' house is so big though." Blaise countered, arguing with herself. "Maybe I should rent the house instead?"

"Could do that too." Murphy agreed with a grin.

Blaise sniffled and stared at the dark beer in front of her. "Do you wanna move in?" She asked suddenly. "I mean, there's enough space at the house..."

Connor and Murphy exchanged almost panicked looks.

"Now is not the best time t' be askin' that kind of question." Connor said diplomatically. "We might not get along."

Blaise laughed and drank the rest of her beer. "I think I'll go home." She announced. "The apartment tonight." She added. "If y' need ta find me."

She got up and went to pay their tab.

"Go home with her." Murphy instructed. "She's in a bad way."

Connor nodded. "She's not right, Murph. I'm worried."

"It's grief." Murphy said sagely. "She'll be all right after. Just... give her some time."

"We're still gonna find th' bastards right?"

Murphy shrugged. "Not yet. She doesn't want vengeance."

Connor opened his mouth to argue but Murphy held up his hand to silence his brother.

"Let her grieve." Murphy said. "We haven't got the manpower or anythin' to go after a mafioso right now." He cast a look at Blaise, who was still talking with the boys at the long bar, likely getting their condolences. "She's tough, Conn. She'll be alright. B'sides, she's got you now."

"Don' sell yourself short, Murph." Connor said with a smirk.

Murphy chuckled. "Go, before she leaves or does something she'll regret." He told his brother. "I'll be fine, Roc should be 'round any minute now."

Connor nodded and grabbed his coat, patting his brother on the shoulder in thanks as he left the table.

Murphy lit a cigarette as he watched his brother wrap a gentle arm around Blaise's shoulder and lead her out of the pub.

Murphy's prediction of Rocco arriving came true as Connor and Blaise were stopped just inside the door by the Italian.

"Blaise, I didn't think you'd be here." Rocco stammered.

"Sorry to disappoint you?" Blaise replied.

"No, I mean... I heard..." Rocco stammered. "I'm sorry."

Blaise smiled sadly. "Thanks, but it's no' your fault, right? Nothin' you can do."

Rocco opened his mouth to say something but caught the warning look Connor was giving him and changed his mind. He held out his arms instead and Blaise hugged him.

Connor pressed his finger against his lips, warning Rocco not to talk about his job. There were some things that the MacManus brothers hid from Blaise. Rocco's job was one of them.

"Goodnight, Roc." Blaise said quietly. "Watch out fer Murph tonight okay?"

Rocco nodded. "Got it." He agreed.

Blaise smiled and walked out of the pub.

Rocco smiled and nudged Connor. "Have fun." He said with a suggestive smirk.

"Shut it." Connor snapped. "It's no' like that."

"Right." Rocco said. "You've been dating for what? Five years an' you've never taken her to bed? An' I'm the Queen of England."

"Fuck off." Connor replied lightly as he followed Blaise out of the bar.

Rocco sauntered over to the table where Murphy was still sitting and made himself comfortable.

"You didn't 'ave anything ta' do with her Da's death, didja, Roc?" Murphy asked immediately.

"What?" Rocco replied. "Are you insane? I'm a fucking _package boy_. I don't see shit."

"Y' better not be lyin'." Murphy warned. "She'll be out for blood in a few days."

"Trust me." Rocco said. "If I knew a damn thing about it, you'd be the first to know."

At the apartment, Blaise moved like a sleepwalker. She went through the motions of being a polite host, offering Connor every luxury, every amenity she could think of. It wasn't until Connor forced her to sit down on the couch that she stopped.

"I'm lost." Blaise said after a long moment of leaning against Connor.

Connor had sat with his back against the arm of the couch, his legs sprawled out in front of him and Blaise had curled up between his knees, resting her head against his chest.

"You'll be all right." Connor assured her. "I'm here."

Blaise smiled but didn't move.

Connor was afraid that she was on her way to becoming catatonic from the shock. He stroked her hair gently. "Talk to me, then?"

"About what?" Blaise asked.

"Anything," Connor said honestly. "I'll listen."

Blaise sniffled. "It's funny, y'know? You always expect it when your Da' is a cop. Always expect that he might not come 'ome tonight. But then, when it happens, you're not ready for it. And everything breaks."

Connor said nothing.

Blaise sighed and draped her arm across Connor's chest, pulling him closer. "It's no' fair."

"It never is." Connor agreed.

"Did Murph mean wha' he said earlier?" Blaise asked.

"I dunno." Connor lied. "He's always been a bit more emotional, that one. A bit more brash, talks big but doesn't consider the consequences."

"Pity." Blaise sighed.

Connor tilted his head to look at her. "You serious?"

"I dunno." Blaise replied quietly, lifting her head to stare at Connor. "I feel... nothing." She frowned. "Like I've grieved all I can and now the emptiness is just there. It's like a nightmare that I can't wake up from and I don't know what to do anymore."

Connor nodded slowly, not sure what to tell her. He couldn't imagine what it was like to lose a family member. He'd been lucky so far, and he didn't want to try to imagine what she was going through.

She kissed him suddenly, passionately, pulling him close.

Connor wrapped his arms around her in return.

Blaise pulled away from him. Carefully, she stood from her spot and pulled him to his feet, taking him by the hands. "I don't wanna be alone tonight." She told him.

"I wouldn't leave you alone." Connor replied, letting himself be pulled off the couch.

Blaise smiled. "Come to bed with me?" She asked quietly.

Connor nodded and let himself be led down the familiar hallway and into bed.

The next week was difficult to endure, and Connor and Murphy spent more time than they intended in the pub after midnight, trying to cope. Blaise was a wreck. She had decided to move into the family house, rather than rent it, and she was slowly going through all of her father's possessions, getting rid of the ones she didn't need.

She kept his badge and decommissioned gun on Connor's insistence, sending it off to be framed in a shadow box as a keepsake and a reminder. Most of his other things were being donated left right and center, and Blaise was replacing beds and furniture. Every inch of the house seemed like it was haunted.

"She's gonna kill herself." Murphy said one night as the brothers sat smoking at the bar.

"She's not suicidal." Connor argued.

"No, I mean, it's gonna devour her." Murphy replied. "She's not gonna take her own life, but she's definitely losing her spark."

Connor nodded quietly. "I don't think I'd be doing anything different if I was in her shoes." He considered. "I mean, if you died, Murph, and God willing that'll ne'er happen, I'd fuckin' lose it."

Murphy snorted. "Well, I ain't got any plans to die jus' yet." He assured his brother. "We gotta get her out of the house or somethin'."

"It's been barely a week." Connor replied. "She's just gotta get this out of her system, right? I mean, she's alone now. An orphan. It's gotta be rough."

Murphy sighed. Connor was right. As always. "What d'you suggest?"

Connor shrugged. "No idea."

Murphy smirked and rested his head against his arm and the bar. "It's a damn good thing we both love 'er." He mumbled. "Because I couldn't deal with this shite for anyone else."

"It's a damn good thing she's tough as fuckin' nails." Connor shot back, snubbing out his cigarette. "Because anyone else probably would have lost it worse by now."

They went to check on her in the morning.

She was directing a moving crew on where to put the new furniture she was having delivered. She was dressed casually, jeans and her black hoodie, but the sad, empty shell of the woman was gone, replaced with the vibrant, energetic Blaise they'd loved.

"Mornin' boys!" Blaise called as she saw them approaching. She embraced Murphy and kissed Connor. "How hung over are ye?"

"What did you do with Blaise?" Murphy asked.

Blaise shrugged. "It's been a week, love." She replied. "I need to move on. Da's gone and no amount of tears will bring him back."

The brothers exchanged nervous glances.

"I'm all right." She assured them. "I owe you both a debt of gratitude that I can ne'er repay. You both let me cry on yer shoulders, stayed with me, comforted me. I can't e'er repay that kindness." She smiled. "Neither of you slept much in the past week an' I'm sure you're both exhausted beyond comprehension. The least I can do is move on now."

Murphy nodded slowly. "A'right, if you're sure you're okay."

"I am." Blaise said with another, brighter smile. "Besides, there are better things to do than to mope around the house anymore."

"Like what?" Connor asked with a crooked grin.

"Drink an' fight." Blaise said easily.

"Aw, yeah, I fuckin' love your girlfriend!" Murphy crowed with a laugh.

Connor chuckled and shook his head. "I still think you've replaced our Blaise with a robot or summin'."

"I _told_ you I was a cyborg the first night we met." Blaise countered with a smirk. "But naw, I'm really okay. Drinkin' and fightin' sounds like a much more productive use of my time right now anyway."

Murphy snorted a laugh, pointing towards the movers. "But first we need to finish moving your furniture."

Blaise smiled. "Aye, first we need to finish that."


	5. St Paddy's Day

_AN: Sorry this took so long you guys. I've been so busy!_

_Anyway, no way would I abandon my stories! Not 'til they're done. Disappear without warning, sure, but I'd never leave you all! _

_Thanks for comin' out._

_Slainté_

_-Shazzy_

**-Saint Patrick's Day-**

Blaise never attended Mass on holidays. Too many people who only showed up on holidays for her liking. Connor had never been able to convince her otherwise. She devoutly marched to the beat of her own drum, being stubborn and unchangeable when she felt like it, and sticking her weird little beliefs and customs.

But the MacManus brothers went, devoutly. And on this particular Saint Patrick's day, they were given their permission from God, as it were, to do what they'd so longed to do.

Blaise met them at McGinty's early in the afternoon. She wasn't one to use a day to dictate her drinking habits either, but she knew the boys liked it. Another of her sticky habits – this time picked up from seeing the horrific aftermath of too many police calls on the 17th of March with her father. When she walked in, she was greeted with a friendly cheer and she wasted no time in buying the regulars a round of beer.

She was dressed in jeans and a black t shirt underneath a black buttoned dress shirt. Her hair was darker, a chocolatey auburn, with the unnatural red she loved being a highlight instead of the main colour. Her normally straight hair was waved and pinned back on the right side with a green shamrock made of ribbon. She was dressed like she'd been somewhere relatively important before going to the pub.

Connor noticed that she had a gleam in her eye that suggested she was ready to fight someone.

She draped her arms over Murphy's shoulders and leaned against him, giving him an affectionate hug around the shoulders.

"Y' miss me?" She asked with a smirk.

"Not in the least." Murphy replied as Doc placed the beer Blaise had bought him on the bar. "But thanks for the beer."

"Vy zadnitsu." Blaise countered in Russian. (_Translation: You're an ass!_)

"Ochen' khorosho! Vy izuchaete." Murphy replied, wrapping his arms over his head to awkwardly hug Blaise. (_Translation: Very good! You're learning!_) "I don't think I'm terribly comfortable with you learning all my secrets." He added in English with a smirk.

"Only enough of the language to insult you." Blaise promised.

Murphy chuckled and let her go.

Connor was on his feet and the two embraced chastely. No need to have the drunken boys teasing Connor about kissin' for the rest of the night.

"How's the writing?" Connor asked.

Blaise kissed his cheek anyway. "Slow and boring." She replied. "But it's all right. I just wish that I didn't have a deadline looming." She shrugged and settled herself next to Connor, letting Murphy stay on the other side of his brother. "Y' comin' over tonight?"

Connor shook his head, a look of apology on his face.

Blaise waved him away with a smirk. "Y' boys have yer fun. I'll just keep writing."

"What's this one about?" Murphy asked, leaning forward to peer around Connor.

"Can't say yet." Blaise replied with a sigh. "I'm editing it and it sucks and I'd rather sit here and drink, but I have deadlines."

Murphy grinned. "How many fuckin' books do you write in a year?"

Blaise shrugged. "This is the first one this year. It's been in the aether for six months being optioned and edited. And now I have to edit the edits." She smirked. "I'm gonna kill someone."

"We could start a bar fight, if you want." Murphy offered.

Blaise laughed. "Na'ah, you save that for yourselves for later. I'll be all right." She told Murphy with a grin, unaware of how true that sentiment would become in a few hours.

"You're not drinking?" Connor asked as he noticed Blaise's spot devoid of any beverages.

"I'd rather not." She replied with a shrug and a stifled yawn. "Got so much work ta' do, I'm only here to say hello."

"We appreciate it." Murphy said lightly, meaning that he appreciated the beer she bought.

Blaise stuck her tongue out at Murphy. "Sure y' do." She smiled. "But I'm gonna head off for the night." She said, getting up from her spot. "You boys have fun."

Connor stood with her and pulled on his jacket. He'd at least walk her out.

Outside, Connor pulled her away from the door. He had to talk to her.

"Are you sure you don't wanna come back to my place?" Blaise asked lightly, following Connor easily as she entwined her fingers with his.

Connor sighed. "I wish I could." He said.

Blaise stopped and pulled him to face her. "What's wrong?"

Connor shook his head. "D'you believe we all have a calling?"

Blaise narrowed her eyes. "Like, from God?" She asked. "Sure. It's just a matter of listening to Him." She studied Connor's face for a long moment. "Y've heard something?"

Connor shrugged. "Kind of..."

Blaise smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "Good." She said softly. "An' you can tell me all about it tomorrow."

Connor smiled weakly. "A'right." He agreed. "But try ta' keep an open mind."

Blaise arched her eyebrow with a smirk. "You're dating a writer, Connor MacManus. I think my mind is as open as it can be." She snickered. "Besides, you've put up with my crazy for how long?"

Connor shook his head with a smile and kissed her goodbye. "Go home an' write then." He told her.

"Kick some ass for me." She replied as she let go of his hand and walked away.

Connor laughed, not realizing how true those words would become...


	6. Stitches

**-Stitches-**

"Jesus Christ, Connor!" Blaise cursed as she dragged the limping man into her house, followed closely by Murphy. "What the _fuck_ did you do?"

"Long story." Murphy said.

"Is your shoulder _dislocated_?" Blaise asked as she looked Murphy over.

Murphy nodded, wincing.

"And you what? Walked all the way here?" Blaise asked, setting Connor on the floor. He was half conscious and bleeding out of what looked like knife wounds.

Blaise stopped.

"Where's Rocco?"

The brothers got very quiet.

Blaise nodded in understanding. She grabbed Connor's chin and forced him to look at her. "Connor, you're not gonna die. Lemme fix Murphy's shoulder an' then I'll stitch you up."

"A'right." Connor replied sleepily.

Blaise frowned. He was in shock. Which made no sense, he'd had worse. She turned to Murphy.

"Go upstairs. Spare room. I'll be right there." Blaise instructed.

Murphy nodded and did as he was told, his boots heavy on the steps as he walked.

Blaise knelt down by Connor. "Don't go to sleep, you bastard." She warned. She reached around his neck and took off his rosary. She placed it in his hands. "Say it." She demanded. "Pray the rosary. I'll be back before you're done the first decade."

Connor nodded, fingers counting the beads as his lips moved silently mouthing the prayers associated with them.

Blaise got up and rushed up the stairs after Murphy. He had seated himself on the bed in the spare room where he'd spent far too many nights in Blaise's care for him to admit. He'd shrugged out of his coat and Blaise could see the swelling in his shoulder through his thin shirt.

"Goddammit." She mumbled, noticing the smaller wounds and bruises on his arms. "What did you do?"

"Got caught at Yakavetta's." Murphy replied as Blaise felt the joint where the bone had pulled free from it's socket. Yes, it was a dislocated shoulder.

Blaise's eyes darted to the deep bruise on Murphy's wrist and she bit her lip.

"We're okay." Murphy assured her through gritted teeth. "Mostly."

Blaise took a deep breath. "You lost Roc?" She asked.

"Yeah..." Murphy said quietly. "But... I think we made a new friend."

"Who?" Blaise asked, trying to engage Murphy's mind.

"It's really hard to explain." Murphy replied. "I'll let Connor explain it when - AH FUCK!"

The snap of his shoulder as Blaise pulled it back in to place caught him off guard and made her stomach churn. But it was done. She'd just done it without warning, it was easier that way, less resistance.

"Better?" She asked.

Murphy nodded through the tears in his eyes. "Fuck." He breathed.

"Good." She smiled weakly. "I'm gonna go take care of Conn. There's clothes still in the closet. You owe me one hell of an explanation after this is all done." She added.

"I will sing your praises in all the tongues of the world when you're done." Murphy replied.

Blaise nodded and went to retrieve her first aid kit from her office.

Murphy listened as she walked down the stairs. He'd change quickly, wash his hands and face and then go help take care of his brother.

By the time Murphy got downstairs, Blaise was busily stitching up a wound in Connor's chest that Murphy hadn't noticed before. His brother was just as bruised as he was and Murphy felt a pang of guilt strike him as he watched Blaise silently work.

Connor's eyes were glassy and distant as Blaise stitched him up. She'd given him some pain killers, obviously.

"How's it going?" Murphy asked hesitantly.

"Fine." Blaise said nonchalantly. Her stitches were professional and she didn't falter or wince as she poked the curved needle into Connor's flesh over and over.

"What's up with Conn?" Murphy asked.

Blaise looked up at Connor, who was sitting very still and quiet, staring at the wall. She smirked as his fingers moved the rosary along, bead by bead.

"I told him to be quiet and pray the rosary." Blaise said, shifting enough so Murphy could see the moving beads between his brother's fingers. "And I gave him codeine."

"Ah." Murphy said with a smirk.

"It's in the kit." Blaise offered as she went back to stitching up the wound. "If you want some for your shoulder."

Murphy looked longingly towards the medical supply kit on the table. "No. Thanks. One of us has to be sober."

"There's beer in the fridge." Blaise countered.

"Sober is a relative term." Murphy said with a smile, opting for a beer instead of painkillers.

"Okay Conn." Blaise said, reaching for a large square gauze bandage. She peeled the backing off and pressed it against his chest. "All done, love." She stood and kissed his forehead. "You okay?"

Connor blinked and looked up at her. "Yeah. I think so." He said quietly. "Thank you."

Murphy sat quietly at the familiar table, nursing his beer.

Blaise folded her arms across her chest. "What are you gonna do?"

Connor turned to look at his brother. Murphy stared back.

"No idea." Connor said, slurring his words through the high-end pain killers.

"You can stay here." Blaise offered.

"Tonight?" Murphy asked. "Yeah, I think that'll be all right."

"There's something you're not telling me." Blaise accused. "I know, you're acting all weird. And if it's as big as you're suggesting it is by your actions, I have every right to know. I'm in just as much danger as you are."

Murphy frowned into his drink and a look of torture crossed Connor's face.

"What?" Blaise demanded.

"Our Da' is a mafia hit man." Connor said slowly. "An' he was hired t' take us out."

"He didn't." Murphy added. "He uh... technically, he saved us."

Blaise's knees buckled and she sank to the floor. "What?" She asked. "How d'you know that?"

"Family prayer." Connor said.

Blaise stared at her boys. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She started to laugh. "You're serious, aren't you?" She asked through the laughter. She was sure that she was losing her mind.

"Yeah." Murphy replied.

"And does he know you're here?" Blaise asked.

"No." Connor said quickly. "God no. That would be..."

"Disastrous." Murphy finished.

Blaise pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who is he?" She asked finally. "If he's a mob hit man?"

The brothers exchanged another look.

"Il Duce." Connor said finally.

"Fuck!" Blaise exclaimed. "Fuck. Really? Fuck!" She got up and stormed off, up the stairs.

The brothers heard one of the doors slam from upstairs.

"Think she's mad?" Murphy asked sarcastically.

"How the hell does she know who Il Duce is?" Connor asked, a shiver running down his spine. He was still shirtless from Blaise's operation.

"Beats me." Murphy said. "But Lucius was a cop, remember?"

"Y' think she's got a reason t' be afraid?" Connor asked nervously.

"Il Duce's rules are no women, no kids, right?" Murphy asked. "I think she's okay."

Connor rested his head in his hands. "Fuck." He muttered. He sighed, the pleasant numb feeling of the codeine was wearing off as adrenaline kicked back in. "I'll go talk to her." He said with a sigh. He took a moment to take off his shoes, dusty and bloodstained as they were, and replace the rosary around his neck.

"Good luck." Murphy said quietly, finishing his beer.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need it." Connor agreed as he limped his way up the stairs.

Blaise had retreated to her bedroom, the office was an open invitation and she didn't particularly want to talk to either McManus brother at the moment.

Connor didn't care. He pushed the door open and leaned against the frame.

Blaise was sitting on her bed, hands folded in her lap, leaning against the headboard with her feet stretched out.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked.

"I was praying." Blaise said. "But I'm done." She looked up at Connor, a frown of disappointment on her face. "Come in, shut the door and sit down." She told him firmly.

Connor did as he was told, sitting awkwardly on the edge of Blaise's bed.

"Why didn't you tell me about your father?" Blaise demanded.

"We didnae know until just now." Connor said carefully. "Otherwise, we would have."

Blaise frowned. "Am I in danger, Conn?" She asked, all the anger washing away to be replaced with genuine worry.

"I don't think so." Connor replied slowly.

"Are you?"

Connor sighed. "No more'n usual, I think."

Blaise moved from her spot to crawl across the bed and lean against Connor. He wrapped his arm around her carefully.

"How do you know who Il Duce is?" Connor asked after a moment.

"Da' was one of the cops who helped put 'im behind bars." Blaise explained. "But he didnae want to. He wanted to send him off, to help him escape, but Il Duce said no. He said that he would serve his time, that his family would be safer if he was behind bars."

Connor frowned. "Really?"

Blaise nodded. "Are you scared about all a' this?"

"No." Connor admitted.

"I'm sorry about Rocco."

"Me too."

"You're leaving me fer a while, aren't you?" Blaise asked.

"I think so."

Blaise sighed into Connor's bare chest and he ran his hand over her hair gently, holding her close. Things were moving too fast and in unexpected ways and neither of them were sure where things were going to land.

"Go take a shower, Conn." She said after a long moment, pulling away from him. "Things will be all right." She smiled and stood up. "Things are gonna get a lot more interesting around here, I think."


End file.
